


In Bourbon Veritas

by doctorhelena



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Drunken Confessions, F/M, Howling Commandos - Freeform, Kissing, Steggy Week 2020, Wartime Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25398325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorhelena/pseuds/doctorhelena
Summary: There were actually two beds. Peggy just didn’t seem interested in getting in the other one.
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 26
Kudos: 152
Collections: Steggy Week





	In Bourbon Veritas

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for Day 2 of Steggy Week 2020 (Tropes, clichés, and symbols). The trope here is actually drunken confession, although Peggy tries pretty hard to make it into the "oh no, there's only one bed" trope. :)

By the time they reached the safehouse, they were muddy, drenched, and entirely done with each other. 

The torrential downpour had at least provided cover for the successful destruction of the Hydra facility, but their radio had been damaged, the dark clouds blocking the sun meant none of them had realized that Falsworth’s compass was demagnetized until they’d gone significantly out of their way, and none of them had eaten since breakfast.

“You need to get that damn radio working, because I’m not walking halfway across Lithuania," growled Dum Dum, and Morita set down his bundle with much more force than necessary.

"You think I don't know that? Maybe it would be easier to concentrate on fixing it if you would just shut the hell up for a second."

“Yeah, well maybe if _Carter_ hadn’t insisted on searching the fucking office for so long, it wouldn’t have got smashed in the first place.”

Peggy set down her pack and glared at the room in general. “I expect the files I was looking for have now been blown up, along with the room they were in. We had plenty of time, until _somebody_ forgot to keep the detonator dry.” The circuit had shorted, starting the countdown ahead of schedule and forcing everyone to evacuate.

“All right,” said Steve, maybe a bit more loudly than necessary. “That’s enough. We need food and dry clothes, and then we can talk about what went wrong.”

Jones and Dernier, who’d been checking the house, came in from the hallway. “It’s clear,” reported Jones. “Four bedrooms, and the bathroom’s got running water.”

"Thank the Lord," muttered Falsworth, and began to rummage around in his pack. “It’s probably too much to hope that the stove might also work.”

Bucky patted him on the shoulder. “Hey, thanks for offering to cook supper, pal.”

Falsworth glared at him.

\-----

Thankfully, things did indeed seem considerably less dire once they’d all washed up, changed into the dry clothes they'd stashed in their bedrolls, and draped themselves around the main room to feast on warm beans and hot coffee. Peggy had washed out her muddy clothes and hung them to dry by the fire, silently daring anyone to say a word about the underwear, and Steve was fighting a losing battle not to imagine her in it, and nothing else, alone with him in the warm glow of the fire.

They claimed the bedrooms as they ate, Falsworth, Dernier, and Morita tripling up so Peggy could have her own. She objected that it wasn’t necessary, Dernier insisted, in French, that he planned to sleep in his bedroll on the floor either way, and she narrowed her eyes at him, then shrugged and let it go.

The house felt cozy now, the mistakes of the day less a matter for recrimination and more simply something to put behind them and move forward. Falsworth, who’d volunteered for first watch in lieu of cooking, was out on the front step under the overhang of the roof with a warm mug of coffee and his rifle. Morita moved closer to the firelight to tinker with the radio, and Dum Dum directed a wide grin at the rest of them and produced a full bottle of bourbon and a pack of cards.

Peggy had always made it a point of pride to occasionally prove that she could drink any one of the Howling Commandos under the table, although she usually didn’t do it in the field. Tonight, though, it had been a very long day, and she and Dum Dum were both undeniably tipsy by the time they finally called it a night, so late that it was time for Bucky to take over for Falsworth on watch.

She’d stayed out in the main room rotating her drying clothes in front of the fire as everyone else headed for bed, and so she was waiting in the otherwise-deserted hallway when Steve came out of the bathroom. She looked around with exaggerated caution, then leaned her face very close to his. “Good night, Steve,” she whispered, the bourbon so strong that, before the serum, he thought he might possibly have been able to get drunk on her breath alone. Now though - now it could really only be Peggy herself that made his world tilt so thrillingly off its axis.

He should ask her to go dancing, he thought, once he was alone in the room he and Bucky had claimed. He contemplated the idea as he stripped down to his shorts and shirt, then slid under the covers of one of the two small beds. She’d said once that she was waiting until after the war, but - he thought maybe things had changed. They’d been having these moments more and more often, not only when she was a little drunk, but all the time, their eyes meeting across the map table or their hands brushing in the back of a jeep, or - his door creaking open right now to admit her, her cheeks flushed in the dim light. Steve froze as she carefully shut the door behind her, set down her pack and boots, and tiptoed carefully over to his bedside.

“There’s a leak in the roof in my room,” she announced in a stage whisper. “Bloody Nora, Steve, I can’t be expected to sleep in a lake. My bed is sopping wet.”

He sat up. “Okay,” he began cautiously, then froze again as she started to unbutton her pants. He hastily wrapped a hand around her wrist to stop her. “Peggy, what are you doing?” 

She looked at him like he was an idiot. “Well, I’m not planning to sleep in my trousers. We’re inside a house, Steve.”

“Are you - planning to sleep in here?” he asked, carefully.

“Well, I can’t bloody well sleep in my own room, can I?” she asked, impatiently. “It's all...” Peggy trailed off, sidetracked by a sudden apparent fascination with the sight of his hand, still curled around her wrist. Her tongue peeked out between her lips as it often did when she was concentrating, and a shiver of warmth travelled from his hand, up his arm, and down through his body. 

“Okay,” Steve said again, a little too loudly, painfully aware that she wasn’t even close to being sober. “Why don’t you take Bucky’s bed? I’m on watch after him, so he can take mine when he gets back. He won’t mind.”

“I don’t want to sleep with Bucky,” she said, exasperated. “I want to sleep with you.” She abruptly twisted her wrist out of his grip, stepped back just out of his reach, and slipped the rest of the way out of her pants. The smoothness of the manoeuvre was marred somewhat by the fact that she got one of her feet tangled and Steve had to lean out and grab her arm quickly before she fell over, but, he reflected as he watched her face, maybe she’d done that on purpose. 

“Peggy,” he said, trying very hard to keep his eyes away from the mesmerizing expanse of bare skin she’d just exposed, “you’re drunk. You need to go lie down in the other bed. I promise, you won’t have to sleep with Bucky.”

She sighed. “I’m only a little drunk, Rogers. And I’m not going to sleep in the other bed.” Their faces were suddenly very close together again.

“Okay,” Steve said, a bit desperately. “You take this one, then. I’ll switch.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” she said, and kissed him.

He could probably be forgiven, he thought, for being a little dazed and not remembering to stop her until she’d crawled into the narrow bed with him, pressed warm and breathless against his side. “Peggy,” he said firmly, then cleared his throat. “Peggy. This isn’t a good idea.”

She looked stricken. “Oh. I - I thought we - I thought you - ”

“No,” he said, hastily. “No, I do want to. God, Peggy, I really - ” he swallowed. “It’s just that you’ve had a lot of bourbon, and I don’t think - ”

The relief was clear on her face. “Oh, darling, you’re being far too much of a gentleman,” she said fondly, sliding a cold hand under the hem of his t-shirt. He yelped.

“Gah, your hands are like icicles!” He suddenly felt a little bad about kicking her out of the bed.

Peggy snuggled against him. “I’m not cold.” She yawned. “It’s just that you’re very warm. It’s the serum. Dr. Erskine said it might be one of the effects.”

“It is the serum,” he agreed, back on steadier ground. “Peggy, we can’t both sleep in this bed.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that, don’t you?” she murmured, her eyes closed. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep my hands to myself if you insist, although it seems a wasted opportunity.” She yawned widely, nestled in a bit closer, and began to snore softly, her grip on his t-shirt slackening, her arm suddenly heavier over his waist.

Steve blinked at her, wide-eyed. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Wait for a few minutes until he was sure she was asleep, he guessed, and then extract himself from her grip and move to the other bed. And then, somehow explain to Bucky why Peggy was asleep in their room without her pants on.

Peggy sighed in her sleep, drooling a little on his shirt, and he wondered if she was even going to remember this in the morning. He wasn’t sure which would be better. Either way, it was going to be awkward, and he was afraid she’d retreat out of embarrassment, and they’d never get to - he sighed, and she murmured something unintelligible and wrapped one leg around his.

He wondered, not for the first time, how she always managed to smell so good after days in the field without a shower. Maybe it was just in comparison to the rest of them, but maybe it was some sort of perfume, or - he blinked awake with a jolt. If he wasn’t careful, Bucky would find them both asleep here. Peggy seemed pretty deeply out now, he thought. He glanced at his watch. There were still a few hours until Bucky was due to come get him for third watch. Okay, good. He had time. Maybe he’d wait one more minute, just to be sure.

He yawned. 

\-----

He woke to something repeatedly jabbing at his shoulder. “Uh, Stevie, is there something you forgot to tell me?” He opened his eyes to see Bucky, leaning over him. “‘Cause I didn’t think you and Carter had quite got to this point.”

Steve blinked. Shit. “I fell asleep,” he said, feeling himself flush red. “I meant to move to the other bed before you got here.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“No!” said Steve. “It’s not like that! We’re not - we didn’t - she just - I - ” his ears burning, he began to carefully extract himself from her grip. God, she was like an octopus, he thought wildly. Bucky looked deeply amused.

“Okay, so what happened?”

Steve began to ease his arm out from under Peggy’s shoulder. “Nothing! Nothing happened! She just came in and - well, you saw how much bourbon she and Dum Dum put away. She said the roof was leaking in her room and then she climbed in bed with me and fell asleep.”

Bucky snorted. “The roof was leaking? Is that some kind of euphemism?”

“Bucky! This isn’t funny!”

“Oh, I think it’s pretty funny.”

Peggy stirred, and Steve froze, but she stirred again, groaned, and opened her eyes. She blinked at Steve, and then at Bucky. “Oh!” she said after a long moment, flushing bright red. “I - hello, Sergeant Barnes.” She was, Steve thought, a lot closer to sober than she’d been a few hours ago.

“Evening, Agent Carter,” Bucky said politely, and nearly straight-faced. “Look, I hate to kick your gentleman friend out of bed, but right now nobody’s on watch. So, if you two need a sec, I’ll go back out there, but you get five minutes. Five.” He held up a hand to emphasize the time limit.

“No, it’s okay,” said Steve, still red, sliding out of the bed and pulling on his pants and uniform shirt, trying not to notice that Peggy was watching him with not-very-well-hidden interest. He sat down on the other bed to lace up his boots. “Buck, Peggy’s room is flooded. It all right if she stays here for the rest of the night?”

Bucky shrugged. “Sure, as long as she promises to stay out of my bed and keep her hands to herself.” He smirked at her.

“Oh, shut up Barnes,” said Peggy, still beet red. She half sat up and winced, rubbing her head. “Bloody Nora. I should drink some water.”

Steve stood up and slid on his coat, then hesitated. “Go,” said Peggy, waving her hand. “I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”

Thanks to the serum, Steve could hear Bucky and Peggy talking as he made his way down the hall and through the front room to the door.

“So,” Bucky said, a grin still in his voice. “Got tired of waiting for him to make a pass at you?”

Peggy sighed. “If you breathe a word of this to anyone, Sergeant, I shall throw all your socks in the nearest river,” she said, a bit gruffly. “Don’t think I won’t do it.”

Bucky snorted. “Oh, I know you would.” There was a short pause. “How drunk are you? He _is_ on watch. You can’t distract him too much.” 

“I’m not going to stay out there with him,” she said. “Just - talk for a minute. And then I’ll take my bedroll and sleep in the front room, as I should have in the first place.” Her next words sounded a bit muffled. “I can’t believe I actually - ”

“Hey,” said Bucky, and Steve could hear a rustle of cloth, as if he was patting Peggy on the shoulder, maybe. “Steve’s my best friend, so believe me when I say this - if anything, you might have been a bit too subtle.”

Peggy huffed out a laugh. “You’re an ass, Barnes.”

“So,” said Bucky, just as Steve opened the door to the porch. “I assume these are your pants.”

\-----

Steve hadn’t been outside long when the door opened behind him and Peggy came out, bundled up against the cold. She looked like she’d splashed water on her face, and she also looked more than a little mortified as she joined him under the overhang, leaning beside him against the wall.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

Steve focused his gaze back out into the darkness surrounding the house, scanning for movement. “How much do you remember?”

Peggy huffed out a laugh. “I’m fairly certain all of it, unfortunately.”

Steve reached over and squeezed her hand. “So then you should also remember that I told you I wasn’t saying no because I didn’t want to. Because I - ” he took a deep breath. “If you hadn’t had so much bourbon, we might have been in real trouble.”

Peggy looked up at him through her lashes. “That all depends on how you define trouble, doesn’t it?”

It seemed a lot warmer out on the porch suddenly. “Peggy,” Steve said, awkwardly, “I’m on watch. And you’re still - ”

“I know,” she said, and hiccuped. Steve smiled at that, and she made a face at him, although she was smiling too. “All right,” she said, briskly, “I suppose that, as neither of us seems particularly good at confessing our feelings whilst sober, and you’re incapable of getting drunk, it falls upon me to take the bull by the horn...” her eyes drifted unsubtly downwards and he realized she was probably even less sober than she seemed.

“Peggy!” he said, and she looked back up at his face, her mouth half-open, her pupils enormous. The air between them was suddenly crackling with electricity.

Her face was a spellbinding study in reckless resolve mixed with naked lust mixed with unaccustomed vulnerability. “I know I said this sort of thing could wait for after the war,” she whispered. “But Steve, I’m - afraid I’ve let myself fall in love with you far sooner than I'd intended to.”

For a moment, he could only stare at her. It wasn’t what he’d thought she was going to say. “I - I didn’t know we were on a schedule,” he said, inanely. Peggy looked uncertain, her brows knitting, and he reached to touch her cheek. “Guess I jumped the gun then, too, Peg.”

She smiled at him then, a slow but brilliant smile. “I thought perhaps we might go out for a quick fondue,” she said, her voice low and husky, “once we're back in London.”

Steve swallowed, his hand still on her cheek. “Isn’t that - just bread and cheese?”

“Fondue,” Peggy said, solemnly, “is entirely what you make of it,” and then giggled suddenly. “Good Lord, that made no sense at all, did it?” She went up on her tiptoes and kissed him suddenly, her arms flung around his around his neck, and for just a moment he allowed himself to kiss her back, although he broke it off when she tried to get her tongue in his mouth. “I’ll go in now,” she promised. “I promised Barnes I wouldn’t distract you too much, and I’ve already got the beginnings of a dreadful headache.”

“Drink some water,” he told her, “and get some rest. We’ll talk tomorrow.” 

She nodded. 

“Peggy?” he asked suddenly, as she opened the door to go back in. “Was your room really flooded?”

She laughed, showing him her dimples. “Yes. I swear.”

\-----

Unsurprisingly, neither Peggy nor Dum Dum was in a particularly good mood the next morning. But the rain had stopped, and Morita had repaired the radio, and they were only two days hike from a ride back to London.

“We need firewood,” Bucky told Steve, as they made camp that evening. “Take Carter.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Very subtle, Buck.” But - well, he did want a chance to talk to her alone. Bucky smirked as the two of them headed off into the still-damp woods in search of something dry they could use as kindling.

“How’s your head?” Steve asked, once they were out of earshot of the others.

Peggy made a face. “Entirely my own fault, I’m afraid.” They worked in silence for a while, pushing aside bits of particularly thick brush to search for dry wood underneath. “Steve, I’m sorry,” she said, finally. He turned to face her, and she flushed. “I - I meant what I said, last night. But I hadn’t intended to throw myself at you quite so enthusiastically.”

“Well, I might never have actually got up the courage on my own,” he said, smiling at her. “And - I meant what I said too. All of it.”

Their eyes met and held, and Peggy swallowed and took Steve’s armload of kindling, added it to her own, and set the entire bundle down on the ground. “Good,” she said, and went up on her tiptoes to kiss him, softly at first, then considerably more thoroughly. This time he didn’t protest when she deepened the kiss, and she smiled against his lips as they broke off for air.

“I don’t want to waste any more time,” she said, resting her cheek on his chest, her arms sliding around his back. “I tried very hard not to let myself fall for you until the war was over, but - ”

Steve laughed. “I don’t think it works that way.”

“No, I suppose not,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “Not once you’ve found the right partner.” 

He tipped her chin up and kissed her again. “So, now what?”

“Well,” Peggy said, slowly, “we ought to gather the rest of the firewood, to start. And then - you know, I was a terrible troublemaker in school.”

Steve bent down to pick up the pile of kindling and handed her half of it. “Really? Never would have guessed it.” They grinned at each other.

“Yes, well,” she said, leaning down to pick up another dry branch. “The point is, I learned that, once it seems inevitable that one will be caught, it’s generally better to get out in front of things.” She shrugged. “I don’t think we’ll be able to keep this from the Howling Commandos.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, probably not. They know how to keep their mouths shut, though.”

Peggy smiled at him. “Precisely.” Her eyes twinkled. “Which is why I’ve said nothing about the rather noticeable smear of lipstick you’ve got on the corner of your mouth.”

\-----

“Huh,” said Dum Dum, as he watched them come back into the clearing with their armfuls of kindling. “You finally kiss her, Cap? About time.”

“I don’t know,” said Bucky, thoughtfully. “Looks to me like she kissed him.” He smirked at Peggy, and she flushed a little as she set down her kindling.

Jones examined Steve’s face, sighed, and rummaged through his pack, producing four cigarettes which he passed to Falsworth. “Damn it. I was off by a month.”

“We should probably give them the talk,” said Morita, already getting the fire going, “but honestly, I’m not sure which one of them to warn off. They’re both kind of scary in a fight.”

“Oh, shut up,” said Peggy, taking Steve’s hand in hers and peering into the cooking pot Dernier was fiddling with. “I’m starving. What’s for dinner?”


End file.
